Webbed Glass
by Dark Closure
Summary: Some people have a hard time sleeping but when nightmares plague Raphael his mild case of insomnia in creases to the point that it has many worried.  Michelangelo is determined to find out what's the cause of it all.  RaphxMikey  R
1. Chapter 1

Webbed Glass

Chapter 1

Sleep, it was a release from reality. A secret heaven that kept you safe with in the boundaries of the dream scaped world. Or at least that was what it was supposed to be, for some people sleep did not bring soft, tender dreams, nor just a simple dark where the body rested. For certain minds the drift brought something something much more sinister than darkness. Dreams that weighed away from nightmares and into terrors that should not be spoken. Usually the victims would talk when asked, trying to get at last a small amount of relief from the festering hiss that plagued their waking moments. But when someone was used to it since early memories, it became hard. With each approaching night, every nodding head and heavy eye lids a foreboding feeling crawls up with twisted glee. Tempers flair, once curious eyes harden to those around in silent need to be saved but no words can escape the throat that is strangled from the inside. Insomnia soon follows with the need to direct desperation. Some drown themselves in work, others busy themselves with cleaning to keep the waking hours constant, while others work their bodies hoping that if tired enough then the terrors won't invade the dreams.

"Something's wrong with Raphael," Michelangelo whispered to himself as he watched his brother working hard on the punching bag more than he needed. Ever since he got his room back he had noticed that his red loving brother had fallen back into the habit of sleeping rarely. He had tried to make a point to Donatello in hopes that their brainiac brother could whip up something to help Raphael sleep more. When April had his room, and he had to stay in his brother's it was hard to get Raph to not sleep. He was always slumbering, snoring from time to time just to annoy his new roommate. But now that he was back where he belonged he was finding that it was... difficult not to notice the dramatic change. He would have thought this was normal if it was not for the fact that he had, indeed, spent over a good month rooming with the work-out freak. But now he saw it, the way that Raphael tried to stay awake, how he struggled each time sleep tried to claim him.

Michelangelo's body instinctively reached forward when he saw his brother shake his head, grabbing onto the punching bag for stability. "Raph," his voice squeaked in a whisper when he tried to call out to his brother who was panting, body threatening to sag to the floor. The hard floor looking rather soft to the older teen.

"Raph," the younger tried again, finally finding his normal voice though it was unusually soft.

"What?" teeth ground together in a growl.

It was late at night, their father and brothers fast asleep, enjoying their escape from the harsh reality that needed to find shoulders to bare its weight. At that moment, Raphael felt heavy with that weight. He felt as if the whole world was crushing down on him laughing at him, taunting him with the sounds of his family's soft snores and mumbles of sleep. He wanted rest, he wanted a break from everything he saw daily, from what hid behind his eyelids snickering with its evil. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, sleep in peace. He got a small taste of it when his brother was rooming with him, and it truly was bliss. He didn't understand it, when ever he tried to slip into that world of unconsciousness with Leonardo or Donatello it was always the same. His pulse was always erratic, his eyes wide from tearing himself awake, breathing deep with pants, a cold sweat reminding him that each night was like the one before. Splinter's presence did not keep the horrors at bay, his need for Raphael to become nearly perfect like his blue clad brother only made it worse. But for some reason if it was just him and Michelangelo, then it weighed away, the claws dug out of his shell and shoulders and that hateful creature that brought the night terrors would skitter back into the shadows. Unfortunately Raphael had to much pride and independence to ask if his brother would room with him once more. They were adults, young adults yes, but still adults. He could not rely on little Mikey each and every time he needed sleep.

"Um..." Michelangelo fiddled with his fingers for a moment. He wanted ask what was bothering his brother. He wanted to ask if there was anything he could do so that those bags under the eyes, so well hidden behind that red mask could just disappear. But he knew his brother better than the others, sure he hung out with Donnie a lot, and sure he would play with Leo... but Raphael was simplistic compared to the other two. His eyes were shielded but expressive, silently pleading for something, anything, to do something. He wasn't sure what his brother needed help with, he was prideful to a prejudice point, but at least he did not dodge questions or put up masks like the others.

"Mikey," Raph heaved one last pant and turned it into a sigh feeling his tired body kneel on the floor. He rubbed at his eyes trying to fight through the fog that was causing his head to spin from the lack of sleep. What was it that he was going to say? Did it matter? So tired. So very tired.

He was out of fighting spirit, drained away from what made him into the Raphael that he knew and loved. Michelangelo moved forward, coming to a stop right next to his brother, "Um... I was wondering if I could sleep in your room tonight."

"What?" his head more of lulled than moved with the usual grace they were all instilled with. Brown eyes watched blue shift from side to side in thought. He put a hand to his knee, fighting mentally once more and managed to get up on his own. Seventh day in a row with out sleep, it really wore one out. "Have another nightmare?" he asked.

"Y-yeah..." It was a lie of a sort, but then again it wasn't. He had watched his brother for the past week getting weaker and weaker because of something preventing rejuvenating rest. It was like a nightmare to see his temper flaring more and more dangerously high because he was just cranky. Hearing him and Leonardo... Mikey closed his eyes tightly, he hated the fighting it was getting frightening.

"Donnie or Leo wouldn't mind you takin' up the other half of their beds," Raphael said walking slowly trying to keep himself up right when he ventured into the kitchen to get some water.

"I uh," come on Mikey think quick. "I just don't want to wake them up, and since you're already up... I thought I would... um..."

"Fine," Raphael didn't make any more arguments like he usually would. He just turned off the light in the kitchen, the sound of the shuffle of his feet told that he nearly stumbled.

Venturing up to his room, he waited for Michelangelo to catch up before closing the door. He sat down under the hammock he had set up for himself, "Go ahead and take the bunk."

"But don't you-"

"Take the bunk!"

"Eep," Mikey clamored up, curling against a pillow and tucking under a blanket that was thick with the comforting sent of his brother. He got a stern glare in the dark until he was completely settled before a hand came down and patted him on the shoulder. The most contact he would get that was non-violent from Raphael in a month, meaning that the emerald green turtle had filled his quota, of being nice, early. He then laid down under the hammock and waited. Waited until he could hear the soft breaths of his brother falling to sleep before he let his eyes close. He jerked at the splash of red against the blue wall that was waiting for him behind his eyelids. Glancing at the clock in the corner of his room he found that he had been asleep for an hour. Odd, it felt like only a second. And why did he have a nightmare when Michelangelo was with him?

The door to his room creaked open, a sleepy Mikey stumbling in with a glass of water, his bandana was around his neck as he rubbed at his eyes. He shut the door behind him coming over to his brother. Sitting down he drank half of it before offering the rest to Raphael with out a word only an odd grunt that spoke volumes. He had woken in the middle of the night thirsty, probably downed thirty glasses of water and brought another with him for precaution's sake.

"No thanks," Raphael turned down the water that looked like it could wash away even bad dreams.

Michelangelo only drank the rest before tossing the plastic cup to the side and curling up against the source of the smell that made him fell safe. He snuggled into his new pillow forgoing the blanket that would have been nice.

"Hey, Mikey," the older of the two tried to move the younger but when he got a protesting groan he decided he was stuck, besides the grip got a little bruising when he squirmed. With a sigh he rolled onto his side to make it easier for the other, allowing lest space to between them as Michelangelo took full advantage of it. "You only get off the hook tonight, no more times, alright?" he warned the one that was on the verge of drooling in his sleep. "Right..."

He closed his eyes and drifted off once more, knowing why he had his nightmare and why it could not mature into the usual terrors.

To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter 2

Webbed Glass

This story is RaphxMikey and LeoxDonnie

Chapter 2

Did it really matter? All of the fighting, all of the struggling. It didn't seem worth it in the end. Crime continued, hatred flourished, people remained prejudice and the dreams came back. Haunting, sad, frightening, but worse yet the seared burnt images behind his eyelids so when ever he slowly blinked or closed his eyes to rest they would be there to greet them in all of their horrors. But Michelangelo helped make that struggle less of a burden, made the crime not seem so bad. He brushed off the hatred, stuck his tongue out at the prejudice, and chase the dreams away with his bright smile, care free laugh and warmth. That warmth...

Raphael flexed his fingers, he had been sitting up on the roof top of April's shop for... well he got up when it was barely getting dark, and now it was nearly dawn. He had been staring at his hands the whole time trying to fight of the need to sleep, trying to understand the questions that whirled about in his mind. Why me? Why him? Is there something wrong with me? What's wrong with me?

He wanted to know the answers so badly. Last night, when Michelangelo had held onto him so tightly, the soft whispers of breath against his neck. Dark eyes squeezed shut hoping to see those horrors, hoping that he was doing what his head was telling him he was doing. But all he could see was sweet Mikey, underneath him in the morning. Staring up, one hand holding onto his bicep, the other bracing himself against the cold floor. The feel of his legs tangled with his own left a burning sensation wherever their skin touched. They had gotten into a fight, verbal at first. Michelangelo wanted to know what was wrong, had been direct after talking with Leonardo and Donatello. The emerald turtle insisted that everything was okay, that nothing was out of the ordinary. But the orange clad brother insisted, stumbled over his own words when he saw with each one his precious older brother was tensing more and more. Raphael snapped, yelled at him, called him things he shouldn't have. But the anger was brushed to the side, seen through by those blue eyes, and he continued to insist. When he could not reach Raphael by words he had lunged, he was desperate, he wanted to know why Raphael had woken up screaming that morning when he had left after hearing Leonardo up and about. That scream, it wasn't like the desperate shouts he had heard before in battles, it had not been fake, joking, not even dark or angry. Raphael had been terrified. Everyone came into his room, brothers and father gathered around a still body that stared up at the ceiling as if nothing else existed in the world. His insistent talk about how he was okay, how he had only a nightmare was noted as a way to back off. But Michelangelo was not a quitter, and thus why he had gone physical with his brother. If the red loving turtle was not going to listen to words then perhaps physical actions would be a better route.

That was how they ended up wrestling, that was how they ended up being tangled together in the middle of the living area. How blue eyes pleaded for something that Raphael couldn't provide. How could he when he did not know the answer himself? Then fingers started to caress, arms wrapped around his neck and held on tightly. Michelangelo's body was so warm as it pressed against his Mikey shivered as if he was cold and tried to press himself further into his brother's body when unsure hands came to his shell. "I love you Raph," the voice quivered in his memories. "You're not alone... you gotta-" The words were cut off by a constricting throat that warded off a sob. A shaking hand came to the back of his head and pressed making the embrace some how deeper than before.

"I'm okay Mikey," he had said trying to sooth his emotionally wrecked brother. "I'm okay," he whispered pushing away that thought that wondered why he was so very uncertain of that.

Raphael flexed his hands once more, "I'm okay, Mikey... really..."

Looking up at the dawning sky he decided to go back home. Shifting he allowed himself to fall forward, grabbing a pipe to slow his decent before landing soundlessly on the cold ground at the bottom of the alley way. With a sigh, he pressed his palm against one of his eyes. He was tired again. Now it's been well over 24 hours since the last time he had slept but all he needed was a good cup of coffee or maybe some of that tea that Leo makes.

----------

"What do you think?" Leonardo paced Donatello's room right under the landing the other teen had his bed perched upon.

Purple clad eyes peered over the edge of a book and down to the one below. He let the book fall forward in his loose grip, "To be honest I don't know what to think. Perhaps all of his vigilant acts are finally catching up to him as well as our little 'misadventures.' He probably needs some time off and away. Policemen, firemen, and people in the military have access to psychiatrists that help them deal with their problems so that they don't loose it while on the job. We're just mutant turtles and the best we've got to being able to vent is to talk to one another which doesn't really help."

Leonardo paused to look up at those eyes that were watching him, "What do you mean? We're family, no matter what we should be able to come to one another."

"Not... necessarily," Donatello closed his book and set it to the side. The look he got from his brother told him that he best explain a bit more. "A psychiatrist is trained in how to identify the problems, in ways to help apply therapy or administer medication. People go to psychiatrists to keep secrets secret while going to a family member doesn't really help."

"Donnie, I don't-" he hushed when a hand was raised.

"If Raphael came into this room right now, and decided to tell you that he was having night terrors because a dog bit him what would you think?"

"That he probably needed more sleep and training."

"Exactly. You've already established a way of thinking towards him, towards all of us because you know us. Your opinion of our personal problems have been tainted due to your relationship with each one."

Leonardo sighed, coming closer to the small loft that Donatello called his bed. His fingers wrapped around the edges as he looked up, "You're right. But I don't like this, it's starting to scare Mikey."

"Just Mikey huh? I can really tell who you care about here," a half smile played on green-brown lips.

"You know what I mean," reaching up he grabbed a tail of purple. Pulling it down he guided a familiar face to his, "And you know I don't like your word games."

"True, but they are fun."

Forest green lips pressed against Donatello's soft and chaste. They had not said anything about the slowly blossoming relationship that was developing between them. Then again the two had been confused as to why they had their first kiss in the work shop when everyone was gone. Leonardo still could feel the heavy leather apron pressed against his chest when the welding mask clattered to the floor. The surprised look on his little brother's face was something to remember and he would always remember it.

"Raph's home!" Mikey's excited voice darted past the room startling the pair. Donatello had to hold onto Leonardo's arms to prevent any unfortunate accidents. Falling back on one's shell was one thing, falling off of the lower loft down into a pile of test tubes that were lined up for cleaning was another. Donatello let out a chuckle at the blush on his love interest's face.

"Uh... Raph's home... I guess," Leonardo cleared his throat trying to calm the heat in his face.

"I guessed that as well when the Mikey torpedo came rushing by. Leo?"

"Yeah?"

"I think we should talk to Raph about taking a vacation. Just him, away from everything, even us."

"But the trouble he could-" a soft press of lips shut him up effectively.

"That's why we talk to him first," Donatello whispered against lips.

"O-Okay."

Funny, Leonardo had the hardest time thinking when Donatello was involved, he always had. Maybe because of the soft nature, perhaps it was due to the fact that those eyes were always so curious and never condescending. No, he knew better than that. He had a hard time thinking because he loved Donatello, he really did. When he first realized it he didn't know what to do. It was his brother, his little brother that was always tinkering away to give them new gadgets to play with. But after a while he realized there was no one else he could be with, even if he found a suitable woman there was no guarantee that she would stick around. He was a mutant, and there were very few of his kind around. And Donatello accepted him, let him take that first kiss, let him hug him extra long, allowed him to hold someone so very precious in his arms. No one else could do that, only big brained, huge hearted Donnie.

To Be Continued...


	3. Chapter 3

Webbed Glass

Chapter 3

"Raph we just think you need a break," Donatello held up his hands when eyes focused off of Leonardo onto himself. They had just said that they believed he needed to take some time off, that they were worried. But Raphael was always too quick to come to a conclusion when an event arose that confused him or set him in a position he did not fully understand. Being on the defense was his life, there had never been a moment where he could just let go and be vulnerable not for a minute, not for a second. That was Raphael's life, and Donatello could understand the snappy comments, the rude words that rolled off of his sharp tongue. They were asking him to step into untested waters, they were not only asking him to relax, but they were asking him to do it by himself. At least when he went out to act on his own, fight crime by himself, he always could come home to the comfort of home, knowing his brothers were there, that his father was safe and sound. Being separated from that reassurance set a twist in even his stomach.

"I don't need no stinkin' break! What would I need a break from anyway?!"

Leonardo stepped between his two brothers when red advanced on purple, "Raphael, it's nothing personal. We're not picking on you, you've just got us worried that's all. You're over stressed and need some R'n'R."

"What would you know?!" He jabbed a finger against Leonardo's chest, "I'm not over stressed, I don't need no R'n'R."

"You really think so?" forest green arms folded as eyes glared through a blue mask. "Because yesterday you woke up screaming! You've never done that before Raph, and if that's not an indication that you need some help then I don't know what is!"

Why did Raphael have to be so defensive all the time? Why did he have to place his pride before honesty? If he could just say that there was something wrong then they could help, but he won't... he wouldn't... perhaps he never could and that left a heavy feeling in Leonardo's chest. He knew his brother loved his family very much, he was always the first one to defend, the first one to never stop looking when one had gone missing. He was their security blanket, he trusted them with his life and they trusted him just the same, but even security blankets frayed with out maintenance. But many holes in that loving, warm, blanket hide themselves, hide so they can not be repaired until it is too late and the blanket became useless due to never being honest. Honesty, that was what Raphael lacked union with. He had it, plenty of it, but he never knew how to really apply it. If he could just stop tearing himself apart because of his stubborn pride, then everything would be alright and they would not have to get into so many arguments... They would not have to send him away to be alone for a month. Only a month. How come that sounded so hollow in his own thoughts?

"You really think that it's that simple Leo? That if I just go away then I'll magically get better when I get back?! Well it ain't happenin' Leo. It ain't..."

Leonardo missed the dulling of the life in those eyes that could be so vibrant, but Michelangelo did not. He had been watching, been waiting to say something. He had greeted his brother when he got back home from his all night excursion. He had offered to cook him something for dinner since he had missed out but was weakly declined. The energy reserves had no time to power themselves up, the shock of waking up panting and out of breath caused bags under eyes that Mikey had woken up to closed. He had watched his brother sleep peacefully, had leaned over and silently hugged him whispering for him to have good dreams, to be better in the morning. His heart was crushed when he heard that scream, the scream that had kept all of them awake for so long. Splinter had paced his room, rubbing at his tired old eyes in thought before telling his remaining sons that Raphael was taking on to many responsibilities for one single person. He chose to shoulder the world's burdens and needed time to recuperate and the rest of them started to promptly think of what they could do to help. To help...

All he wanted to do was help. He wanted Raphael to stop having bad dreams, to be able to rest with out closing his eyes and finding a demon lurking behind in the shadows between wake and sleep. God he wanted to help so much, it hurt. It hurt so deeply that no matter how deep someone cut their blade could never find the source of that hideous agony that wanted to be filled in. Be filled in with what, he did not know, but it helped when he had hugged Raphael earlier, before he had left for the night. It eased when he felt strong arms around his shell, hands patting and soothing.

"Fine then!" Raphael turned on his heal marching towards the door. The door that lead away from home, away from him. Raphael was leaving... he was... he was leaving. Michelangelo's voice caught in his throat, his body became stiff as he watched, ears barely hearing over the roar of his own heart that was beginning to frantically beat. "I'm just gonna go up to the old Jone's house, that okay with you? You satisfied now?!"

No... don't go there. Do go away, stay, stay where it was safe.

"Raph, this isn't a fight," Leo followed his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder, not surprised when it was shrugged off. "I'm worried, that's all."

"Yeah... right..." There was no fight left in his voice, it was gone, he was burning out quickly.

"I'm serious," Leonardo then proceeded to pull his brother into a loose hug, something he did very rarely. Only when he was feeling sick from the worry that was eating away at his nerves. The emerald green turtle only let his brother hold onto him. He did not know if he should hug back or not. If he did, would he loose it? Would they see that inner mask falter, crack, then fall away? Would they laugh? Would he laugh? Michelangelo wouldn't laugh, he was the one that was quivering in his arms, was ready to cry. But that wouldn't be the first time the little one of the family had pulled a shroud over his eyes to cloud his perceptions. He didn't know what to think any more. He needed the ghosts in his brain to leave him alone, even if it was just for a minute, just to be left alone...

A large green hand patted Leonardo on the shoulder a sign to let go, "Yeah, I'll... call each mornin' okay?"

"Alright," his older brother was slow in his release.

"You know, you could call more than that, if you want," Donatello came up to their side, hand reaching out to rest on the top of his tallest brother's head. "We're hear for you. Don't forget that."

"Yeah," was the mumbled reply.

Those eyes turned to Michelangelo who watched him, who wanted to find his voice again. But it was gone, hidden away deep inside with that hurt that could never be found.

"I'll you in a month, okay Mikey? When I get back I better be hearin' good things about you."

He deaftly nodded, fingers touching together before he turned around and silently walked away. His insides were twisting, churning, begging to spill forth to relieve the nausea. God he hated himself right then. It took everything he had not to run, not to just shut down completely. Raphael was listening to Leonardo, but he was not listening to him. He had begged, he had pleaded to be the one to help him. To be the one that he would allow to hold onto him for so long, but it wasn't him, it was Leonardo. He covered his hand with his mouth, he was gonna be sick and he did not even know why. Of course Leonardo would be the one to be listened to, he was the leader and Leo never hugged, not unless something bad was happening. So why was it that he was going to be sick? Why was it that he had moved to the bathroom and was trying not to lurch what little he had ate previously into the porcelain bowl he was hunched over?

Because Raph was leaving. Because he was going to be himself screaming out into the air for no one to be there to comfort him while his body lay there prone with sweat while staring at the ceiling as if he was focused on something that did not even exist.

Michelangelo vomited when it finally occurred to him the complete answer. He was sick because Raphael would be by himself to fight a battle that had no true enemy.

To Be Continued...


	4. Chapter 4

Webbed Glass

Chapter 4

Two weeks, fourteen days he had waited. Raphael had left after making sure that Michelangelo was going to be well looked after once the sea-green turtle had left the room to relieve his stomach of its contence. He had told his little brother to be good, to rest up while he was gone. He had told him to listen to Donatello and take whatever medicine their brother came up with no matter how nasty. He had told him all of this in his eyes, not in words. In words he had said he expected him to be better in a months time. Michelangelo had wanted to tell him to get better himself, to stay home, to keep that sorrowful hurt at bay that was deep with in his being. But all that came out what a choked sigh, and all he could do was watch his brother leave while Leonardo rubbed his face with a damp cloth to keep any raising fever at bay. Leonardo had assured Raphael that everything would be fine, that their baby brother was going to be well watched over. Raphael listened. It made the youngest feel sour inside, it wasn't hate, just a type of frustration. He wanted to be listened to, he wanted to be able to find his voice and tell everyone about that hurt deep inside and how if Raphael left it would only grow because he would be alone. No, they both would be alone. He would not have that sent to fill in that void that was growing with each night his emerald brother had a bad dream, and Raphael would be vulnerable to the demons that lurked deep inside that place that had no names and no location. Two weeks have passed since then, brothers and father with watchful eyes as the youngest grew more peculiar daily. His sighs from the table or couch heavy and long, his pacing feet soft and dragging. They did not understand he was trying to come up with a plan to join the one he cared for, the one that needed him there by his side. Each plan he came up with he would be stopped, he would be lectured for and forced to stay home. To come out and tell them straight up what he surmised was... not his place to say. Raphael would be angry with him, Raphael would yell at him, maybe hit him. Worse yet, Raphael may hate him for it. That thought made the hurt worse, he never wanted his family to disapprove of him, but Raphael... to have him disapprove, to hate...

Michelangelo rubbed his hand over his upper arm trying to get the chills to leave. He didn't want that, it really would be a living nightmare to him if that happened. He shook his head. Why was Raphael's approval, his opinion, so important all of the sudden? When did he start fearing of being pushed away? When did he start to become jealous of Raphael's relationship with Leonardo? It wasn't like they had an interest in each other, other than brother hood. They fought, a lot, butted heads more often than agreed, but that didn't mean... What if there was a possibility of a relationship deeper than that? The orange clad turtle put a hand to his mouth feeling queasy. The thought was not disgusting, it was unsettling. It was frightening. The thought was hard to swallow, it refused to be digested and was just thrown back to wherever it had come from as he paced and silently told himself that it wouldn't happen. That was when he stopped walking, looking down at the floor, eyes tracing whatever they could find until they had risen to rest on the punching bag. He could still see his brother punching at the bag, each hit practiced and hard. His mind cleared of the worries for moment, his ears still picking up the whispers of the past, the grunts the padded punches, it was soothing to him. He needed Raphael there, he needed him close so that he knew he was safe, so he could help. That's when a thought came to him.

Do I... love Raphael more than I should?

------------

There was no more coffee, no more tea, the food supply was getting low and he was running on empty. Today was the mark of his seventeenth day of no sleep. Last time he tried was when he first got to the place. He could still see the eyes being sowed shut with thick string, mouths opening, screams echoing the room before there was a sickening wet popping sound. It was a disgusting terror, he had refused to eat for two days afterwards. That was one of the ones he could handle, a nightmare he was used to seeing now. It never set well with him whenever he saw it, it never would. He hated the sight, the sounds, it always made him feel gnarled and twisted inside. But compared to the other ones he was fine with having that one, he would prefer it. The ones that he was having recently, they sent a chill down his spine in waking hours. Their hidden darkness had no limitations to the disgust and filth they thought to coat him with. Their mere images made him feel filthy, settling a feeling in his heart that if he were to reach out his hand and touch one of his brothers that he might taint them. He never wanted to give them this shadow of broken dreams, he wanted Leonardo to remain the strong leader, Donatello to be the innocent minded tinker-er, and Mikey... he NEEDED Mikey to remain sweet and full of warmth. If he reached out... no, he would keep this demon to himself. He would find a way to conquer it, send it back to where it came from. He wouldn't allow it to take over and slip into his family. It was his disgraceful creature to bare, like an unwanted, tainted embryo created in an unholy union of darkness over taking innocence.

Raphael put down the cup of water he was drinking, he found that if he drank an extreme amount of water then the sleep was warded off easier. Water, there was something very calming about it. To have it roll around in his tongue, to have it on his leathery skin, just the soothing sound of it. He loved the musky sweet sent as well, it reminded him of... of Michelangelo.

There was a knock on the door. He paused, he didn't hear any cars... then again he was trying hard not to nod off. Maybe it was one of the neighbors needing something. If he answered the door he could make up some excuse for his appearance. Pushing himself away from the table, he got up from his seat. Making it to the door was a bit of a chore, his body ached from the home repairs he had been doing just to keep himself busy. He had learned much about house hold wiring over the past two weeks and few days, as well as how to replace floor boards and counters. Plumbing was easy enough and was kind of fun, he got the whole top floor nearly completely new, he was tempted to peal the wallpaper off and put on a new coat of paint, but that wasn't his job, and he'd have to ask Casey for permission before doing something that drastic in appearance. There was another knock beckoning him to the front of the house. He growled, "I'm comin' keep your shirt on."

Opening the door he was greeted with the bright grin of his little brother, "I would keep my shirt on, if I had one."

"Mikey, what are you-"

"Leo and Don are here too," he threw his thumb back over his shoulder to the van that had been pulled up, his other two brothers getting out some sacks of groceries and bags with pillows.

"But... why?"

"Why not? We were just worried you know," Mikey pushed his way in, his shoulder pressing into Raphael's chest softly, linger while he past his brother. "We're just gonna spend the night and see how you're doin' no biggy."

Raphael, reached out, his hand wrapping around a sea-green wrist. His brother turned just a little, looking at him for a moment while silence was the only language spoken. His grip loosened when he realized he had no idea what to say. Michelangelo's hand began to slip from his grip but stopped in favor for lacing their fingers together. The younger gave a small squeeze, a soft smile painted on his face before he said something in regards to the unspoken words from his brother, "You're welcome." Raphael smiled back, a rare one that was just as soft as his brother's. He flexed his fingers giving a gentle squeeze back before letting go of that warm hand and holding the door open for his other brothers. It was getting dark, and their trip was long, they would most likely want to eat some dinner then head to bed.

Their meal was like all their others, filled with chatter, jokes, and moments of silence. One of the conversations dealt with all of them sleeping in the same room since it was expected to get cold that night. Donatello had agreed to Michelangelo who had suggested it all, it would save Casey's family on heating cost and the last time they all slept in the same room was when they were recovering from a battle. It would a decent change of pace, but his eyes that caught Leonardo's told a different story. They wanted to keep an eye on their brother that needed a "vacation" they did not want to wake in separate rooms to screaming ever again. It was petrifying the first time, who knew what the second time would bring.

That night, sleeping in their makeshift beds, the sounds of soft slumber filled Raphael's ears. He rolled onto his side, eyes drifting shut from time to time. Across from him he could see Donatello snuggle up to Leonardo, their leader's arm wrapping around the brown-green brother that desired more comfort and warmth in his sleep. Raphael silently wondered to himself when they were going to say something to the rest of them. He was certain that they were just confused as to what they were getting themselves into. He had seen them kiss once, something sweet and tender, he had caught them cuddling on the couch late at night twice, he wasn't slow, he knew what that meant. He just wished they would come out and say something and stop hiding it, it would make everyone a lot more comfortable, or at least that's what he believed. A heavy sigh left his lips when he rolled over onto his other side, shifting so he was mostly on his back. Michelangelo was on his other side, sleeping face so relaxed and carefree. He reached out his hand, delicately running a finger along his little brother's forehead, down the side of the face and resting on the side of his beak. The younger gave a small giggle in his sleep that caused a small smile on Raphael's face. Taking his hand back he watched his brother a bit longer before his eyes shut for a second only to be pried open by the creak of a board.

A hand shot out, covering his mouth, five fingers gripping hard. The dull light from the room across the hall bathed the silhouette in shadows, giving just enough light to see the structure of the head and shoulders. Before he went to move a sharp pain was in his neck, a burn quickly spreading through his veins into his arms traveling through his fingers and back up. He tried to flinch his fingers, twitch his toes, anything! His voice was muffled as he tried to yell, scream, to get his brothers awake and away from this psycho that was catching the light on his straight teeth.

"Now, now," that deep, familiar voice whispered as a syringe was moved into sight. "We wouldn't want your brothers to wake, now would we."

His mocking tone was level and flat. The empty syringe was set down onto the floor next to Raphael's pillow, in front of a black bag that had its gaping mouth open. The man dressed in black tapped his finger against Raphael's beak for a moment before he removed it. A malicious grin on his face when Raphael tried to yell out, shout and growl, only to find it impossible. "Proper paralysis serums affect even the vocal cords," he smiled while digging to the bag he was next to. His explanation continuing, "But then again, I would have preferred to hear your reactions. It would have been more suitable data." The sounds of latex snapping should have been enough to wake up Leonardo, or Donatello. Dark eyes peered through the corners, head refusing to move. They were both fast asleep, not even a twitch. "But to be honest, I'm tired of chasing you mutants around for proper results," the man's face turned against the light as if he was in thought, a hand still in his bag. Bishop, it was that nasty, evil, son of a rotten turnip that had tried to hack up Mikey. "So I decided I would collect the results myself," a hand pulled out a scalpel, the thin blade glistening on the dim light. "Imagine the results of your dissection, imagine the behavioral data of your brothers when they wake up to find your corpse, it will be most beneficial indeed."

He wanted to say, "Screw you." He wanted to tell him to go throw himself into the pits of hell, he wanted to say anything that would get his brothers to at least twitch, but they were fast asleep! They didn't see the thin metallic tooth coming towards him. They couldn't feel the cold blade pressing into his throat, and they couldn't hear the scream when red droplets fanned against a blue wall.

To Be Continued...


	5. Chapter 5

Webbed Glass

Chapter 5

A foot kicked out, hitting the tiled floor with enough force to create a crooked crack. Muscles tensed as a hand opened and closed, trying to grasp for anything, everything. Warmth was placed onto chilled skin causing a head to jerk, eyes snapping wide open. Those grasping hands reacting before the brain could landing a strike to the person next to him. There was little more than a grunt that could be heard over the panted breath coming from the one that had fallen asleep at the table. Dark eyes finally slowly drinking in the surroundings. He had fallen asleep at the kitchen table. Bishop was not there, his throat had not be cut, the icy fingers of death were not real. His hammering heart telling him that he was good and alive.

"Are... you okay?"

That warm hand lingered before stroking down the tails of the bandana that laid on hard shell. Raphael's instinct was to pull away, his body tensed but refused to move. He was still suffering the from the aftermath of the night terror, his whole being had spent to much energy just to wake up; wake him when his life had ended, when that thin blade had forced his lungs to fill with his own blood, after the agony of waiting to take that last choking breath. All he could have done was wait, wait until his eyes opened back up to reset that never ending clock that ticked away his time awake.

"It's okay," the hand was petting. The hand was soothing... So soothing... An other hand took a hold of his bandana, slipping it off leaving behind a tingling sensation from the rarity of its departure from his skin. His eyes were closing again. Darkness was swimming into his vision as he tried to keep them awake, to try to identify that voice that he could barely hear over his ragged lungs and beaten heart.

"It's okay, Raphael... I'm right here."

Sweet breath scented of soda and cookies bathed his cheek. His eyes closed, to heavy to open once more as his head rested back down to the wood soaked in his own body heat. The table top was softer than he ever imagined it could be, that voice still cooing, soothing, chasing away the creature that was screaming deep with in. That hand that took away his bandana came to his, familiar fingers lacing together as he flexed his own digits. He loved this warmth, this sweetness, he never wanted to loose it... ever.

------------------

When he woke next he was disoriented, mind still fogged with the need to sleep. Someone was shaking his shoulder encouraging him to get up. Who it was, his thoughts could not make out due to all of the sloshed cobwebs that coated his senses like a winter's drift. He let his body go into auto-pilot, he did what needed to be done such as drink water and stumble where ever those hands lead him. He did not want to stray far from the person that was keeping the dreams away, that individual that was unknowingly building a cage for the being that was lurking in the dream scapes. He fell back to sleep soon as something soft was placed under his head and an arm was wrapped around his shoulders. His hands holding close the one that was with him.

This happened several times, the gentle shaking of the shoulders, a voice he could hardly hear, hands that cared for him. Each time he allowed it, every repeat became into a routine until one night his eyes opened on their own. He let out a long yawn, arms pushing out of the blanket that was covering him up into the air above his head as he continued to lay in the soft makeshift bed on one of the bedroom floors. He flexed his fingers and toes trying to get the stiff feeling to leave the protesting digits alone. A thick finger rubbed against his eyes, removing crust and gunk as much as possible. He felt rested, fully rested. It was the first time in so long -to have that feeling of complete awareness- that he laid there on his back for several minutes, the only sound the soft breathing next to him. He did not need to roll over to see who it was, the breathing alone told him. The naturally sweet breath from junk foods that washed over his neck was a dead give away. If nothing else could give away who his care giver was, it was the feeling inside. The knowledge his bones and heart had hidden away from his conscious mind for countless days, the know-how of one sibling that could make everything better with one joke or bad pun.

A well muscled arm snaked around his abdomen, pulling him closer to the slumbering youth that snuggled deeper into his neck muttering some random words about super heroes. An emerald colored thumb lightly ran up, then down a sensitive side that caused his brother to press deeper into him before getting used to the feather light touch. Raphael, rested his cheek against the crown of Michelangelo's head. He was tempted to lay a kiss upon sea-green skin, to whisper thank yous and apologies. Temptation though, was easily resisted by the fact that this quiet moment could not last forever, that if he made a move such as his groaning heart wanted then he risked changing things forever and with what his luck had been lately... No, he would not risk it, never. Michelangelo was to precious to risk dealing damage that could forever change his loving ways. Even if it meant a life of solace, he would resist that temptation to confess feelings, to tell him all about the nightmares and terrors. He would keep it all to himself, until the day he died.

---------------

Leonardo opened one eye from his meditative position. This time it was his brother that was pacing. They had not been happy when news came to them that Michelangelo ran away. Relief flooded them when the boy called half way to the old Jones house. They had been prepared to leave, to follow suit and retrieve the trouble maker before Raphael could get to him. It was Leonardo who had suggested leaving the two alone, he had pleaded with their father, telling him that a feeling within told him that this was for the best, that everything will work out if they just wait patiently. Their father agreed, but still gave Michelangelo a good long lecture over the phone when his youngest son had called the following day to give a status report. Donatello on the other hand had been nerve wracked. He was worried that Michelangelo could have a relapse of... whatever had been causing him to throw up so much. The worry of no immediate effective medication to treat his brothers was biting at him. A few times he had asked if it was okay if he just went up himself to drop off supplies, to make sure everything was fine, but he was calmed and told to wait. The purple loving brown-green turtle had always had trouble being separated from his brothers. When Leonardo would go off on training and be all by himself, when Raphael went out just to walk around topside, when Michelangelo would run around and explore the vast labyrinth of the sewers, and those times when Splinter would leave for a week to go only lord knew where, it all ate at him. He had been told several times he worried to much, and he agreed, but meditation only could help a certain amount.

Leonardo sighed, "Donatello."

"But Leo-"

"They're fine." He held out a hand, "Come here."

The younger of the two shifted his weight from one leg to the other before going over to the offered hand and taking a hold of it. He was pulled down onto a warm lap, arms wrapping around him holding him close, making him feel safer than usual. Leonardo rocked slowly back and forth just slightly, a few times in thought before speaking up, "What's really bothering you?"

"What do you mean?" Brown-green fingers wound around blue tails and unwound in a monotonous movement that kept his busy body working on something.

"You're not worried over if they have enough supplies... and you're not worried over if Mikey will relapse or not... well, not completely. There's something else bothering you. What is it?"

"I just... why did Mikey do that?" He shifted trying to get a little more comfortable, "I don't understand. I know he's a good guy, but to run away like that, to scare us like that... what was he thinking?"

"Raphael, he was only thinking about him. You know Mikey, he's the most sensitive out of all of us and if Raph could scare you and me as badly as he did, then what kind of effect would it have on him?"

"Yeah..." he sighed. "The idiot could have at least chosen a different course of action."

Leonardo laughed lightly, "This is Mikey, we're lucky he didn't write a ransom note for himself."

"Mikey kidnapping himself... nice."

"Feeling better now?"

"Yeah," Donatello sighed leaning against Leonardo's shoulder, closing his eyes to drink in everything that was his older brother. "... a little... but..."

"But?"

The turtle who enjoyed tinkering tensed a little, his eyes opening to find a spot on the wall to focus on while he tried to form his thoughts into words. He could feel something dark looming over head, something that was the real reason why he wanted to go up and check up on his brothers. "Something feels... ominous," he finally whispered.

To Be Continued...


	6. Chapter 6

Webbed Glass

chapter 6

It was a quiet day, the sounds of the summer beetles rattling away to attract mates, the occasional bird call, and the rustle of gentle wind in the trees. It would have been perfect if it was not for the argument going on inside the old farm house. Two brothers, hands locked in hard grips one trying to over come the other while frustrated words filled the air in the room, filtering out the screen door and onto the porch.

"I told you I'm fine!" Raphael yanked Michelangelo's hand to the side causing his brother to stumble on his feet, but sea-green hands would not waver in their grip.

"And I told you you're telling a pack of lies!"

How did this start? The day was so perfect, he had woken up to being held in those arms that would keep him from harm, bathed in the musky sent that was his older brother. He had pretended to continue to sleep while a finger feathered up and down his side, the tender motion stitching close the hollow hurt deep inside. Raphael then left shortly after, heaving a deep sigh, he had gone into the kitchen while his little brother wished that warmth was still there, that those hands would continue to touch him so kindly. But all good things had to come to an end, he managed to pull himself out of bed, do his usual morning routine of hygiene, before finding the kitchen. He had asked how his brother was doing, had only asked. The one dressed in red simply said he was fine, that everything was fine. Raphael had cooked breakfast that morning, the French toast was slightly burnt but the sausage was perfect. While eating Michelangelo had asked again, if there was anything wrong. That was how their fight started. A simple snapped, "I'm fine!" countered with, "No you're not!" It was all verbal first, nothing but a childish game of "no I'm not, yes you are". How it got physical was unknown. Who had reached out first, who had retaliated, they didn't know. They were both frustrated, angry, upset. Raphael wanted to tell Mikey everything, he wanted to lift the burden in his soul, but he didn't want to tell the one most precious to him the evils one could see in just dreams let alone reality. Michelangelo wanted the truth, he felt betrayed in some fashion. He needed to know he was still important to the most important person in his life. They both needed something to mend the disarray of their emotions and thoughts.

Right at the moment though, they were trying to find a weakness in the other, trying to get a hand up as to get their way.

"I'm telling you Mikey, it's best this way!"

"Best what way?! Best that you don't get any sleep because of nightmares?! Because you can't trust us! Because... Because that really hurts Raph," the youngest was reaching his limit. He had watched for two days as his brother slumbered, watched the twitches and moans of agony when he dared to leave the room. He had watched the difference between sweet slumber and horrible nightmare. He knew the difference. He wasn't stupid, he may not be as smart as Donatello, or Leonardo, but he wasn't stupid. He could be trusted just as much as them.

There, the falter, but no one moved in, the fight falling away as one brother began to quiver, his hold on his sibling's hand becoming more desperate for comfort than harsh in grip. "Mikey, I-"

"Is it my fault?" a hand shook loose from one hold, a palm pressing up on the orange bandana trying to keep tears from coming. That hurt and emptiness spilling forth, breaking the stitches that tried to keep it at bay. The confusion in his mind clearing up finally. He wasn't jealous of Leo, he wasn't upset that Raphael preferred to listen to their brother than him. The thought was a twisted conception of his own worry. His real worry of being at fault of causing all that pain, all that trauma to the one he loved. The real hurt, the reason why it was so hollow and hideous, the real reason why only Raphael could heal it. He was terrified that he had done something to cause all of this. Great, tears were running down his face, no matter how many times he wiped at them they continued to come up, tired of being held back for so many nights and days. "I- I didn't mean to, I-"

Strong hands grabbed a hold of his arms forcing his hands away from his eyes. There was a hard shake forcing him to look at the startled face of his brother, "Mikey, don't you EVER think that this is your fault. You got that?!" Michelangelo leaned back a little when Raphael's face got up closer, his mind telling him that he was in trouble. "Whatever happens in my screwed up brain can never, ever be your fault." Emerald arms pulled the youngest into a strong hug, pulling him as close as possible, "It'll never be your fault."

What happened next was more of the reaction of the body, not the mind. He didn't want to do it, he had thought about it, but always managed to ward it away. Michelangelo had leaned up and pressed his lips against his brother's. The intoxicating warmth of when the mouth opened in surprise was too much to handle, the taste of the tongue that hesitated, that fumbled with his. He wanted more, he needed more. His mind shut down, he was barely aware of being kissed back, of being lifted up. He forgot everything and was greeted with sensations that one could only get a vague idea of from reading about. The sent of sweat filled in the emptiness, the whispers of "I love you"s and sweet nothings ripped the hurt out of him, sent it away to bother someone else. Pleasure of kisses and touches made everything right. With a call of a name everything was perfect once more.

----------

Raphael shifted, he knew he shouldn't have. He knew he didn't have the right, but when he saw those tears, when that mouth came to his, a flood gate was opened. He couldn't control himself, he lost every bit of his training for a moment of bliss, to hear his name called by the voice that chased away the demons. He knew that after this one act of sin they should never do it again, but when he got another kiss the next day and a touch that shouldn't have been so gentle he couldn't help himself, nor the day after that. Now, he knew that there was no turning back, that there was no way he could fix this. To give Michelangelo back something that he had taken, but... when he looked over to his brother who was munching on some nuts, sitting dolly next to him on the porch swing that he had fixed after... last night. Raphael smiled, as he ran a finger down the back of his lover's shell. He decided that this was okay, he could live with this, and that what he had taken from his brother he would treasure. He would put that heart that was entrusted to him into a box, and keep it safe.

"You still haven't told me about the nightmares," Mikey suddenly spoke up after swallowing.

"You sure you want to know?" Red clad eyes just watched the world of the dying summer, fingers still tracing the patterns of shell that was only Michelangelo's.

"Dude, would I be so persistent and just give up because of unmentionable things we do?"

A smile tugged at emerald lips. Unmentionable things, that was a nice way of putting it, at least he wasn't as kinky as Mikey could get. The smile he had was short lived though, he needed to think of a way to tell his brother, his mate. A few nuts was suddenly shoved into his mouth, with a raised brow he looked to the one that was at his side. A large grin painted on the handsome face of Mikey's. Raphael sighed through his nose, and chewed grunting when he received a kiss to the temple. He knew Michelangelo was milking as much attention as he possibly could, because soon as they got home they would have to be whole lot more discrete about their actions. They might be able to share the occasional kiss in front of Donatello and Leonardo but never near or around Splinter, as for other parts of the relationship... He sighed once more, maybe it was time to move out of the lair, just not too far so Splinter could visit often and they could come over for training. He was getting off track, Mikey would start bothering him about the dreams again soon if he didn't say anything.

"I've always had nightmares Mikey," he started off slowly.

"Really?"

A small nod, "Yeah, just... they would go away with you guys around. Then Splinter and our new place, we had our own rooms for once. It was nice at first but the nightmares started to get..."

"Bad."

"That's one way to put it. Then after Bishop and all of that-," he put a hand to his head trying to think. All he could see was Mikey on the dissection table, bone-saw coming at him. A tender touch to his shoulder pulled the image away. Raphael placed a hand over his lover's, pulling it from his shoulder in favor of holding it in his lap, "It just got worse after that. Not by much, but it just progressed to the point I couldn't sleep."

"I got that much," Mikey let his thumb play along his brother's hand. "I'm asking you what KIND of nightmares."

"Mikey, I'd rather not-"

"Raph, seriously. Donnie always says to identify the problem first then figure out how to fix it."

"Usin' the Donnie approach on me now?"

"I could always give you a guilt trip and blame it all on myself again."

A light smack to the head, "Fine, but don't be tellin' the guys or Splinter, got it?"

"Got it!"

To Be Continued...


	7. Chapter 7

Webbed Glass

chapter 7

No, no, nononono. NO! How could he call it normal? How could he have kept it hidden so long?! How could he have- Michelangelo stopped in his frantic pacing. Those nightmares, they were the ones he could handle, the ones that only made him sweat at night and wake up out of breath. The sea-green turtle rubbed his upper arms as to ward off the chill that was running up and down his back ever since the first one was told. He squeezed his eyes tight trying hard to make sense of it all. The details were vague yet to the point, he was not trying to be graphic, he was trying to gentle, gentle like his touches, like his deep voice. But that did not prevent the subtle shock that consumed, it did not give caution to the youngest that he would flinch at the sudden loving touch to his skin. He shouldn't have asked, he shouldn't have pushed so hard. He had hurt Raphael this time, had been the cause of those eyes retreating, his lover closing off everything as he simply said he was going to go on a walk. It didn't help that his voice was stuck in his throat, his mind picking up on the broken and blooded horrors that haunted the one he loved.

He pulled in a long sniffle. Since when did he start feeling that sting at his eyes? When did he start feeling sick deep inside once more? When Raphael left. When he saw an emerald hand gripping one of the porch columns, trembling as he spoke in a steady voice that he needed to clear his head. He started to ask himself questions about Raphael, about how he could handle it for so long and grow accustomed to it when an hour ticked by. He began to feel sick when dusk tocked away. How long was Raphael going to be out? How long was he-

"Raphael..." he paced once more before quickly making his way to the door. Pushing open the screen door, he called out "Raphie!"

Only mid-night crickets.

"Raphael?" he called out once more, padding off of the porch to look around the old farm. Coming up to the edge of the shadow swallowed forest he took in a deep breath, "RAPH!" he shouted as loudly, as desperately as he could. He needed to apologize, he needed to tell him that he was being stupid for flinching, for ever shrinking away from his touch. He needed to feel safe again, to know he was not alone.

A few birds were startled into the air, their warning calls shrieking into the night air, frantic wings bathing Michelangelo in fluttering whispers of shadows from the full moon light. Blue eyes pulled up to the spectacle, dry voices of the birds echoing around him in the open spaces between the forest and the barn. His heart beat hard, his breath catching as that chill ran down his spine once more. There was something wrong, it felt almost like... there was a hunter out. A hunter who wanted bigger game, to see how the pray reacted before being attacked. He had this feeling before, it was a nasty feeling that set a bitter taste in the back of his throat. Where he had felt it before he was not sure, his thoughts were focused on trying to figure out where the possible attack could come from. If he went into the forest he had more cover, if he went into the barn or the house he would be enclosed but there were many more things he could use to his advantage. He went to move, but the sound of feet froze him to the ground. He knew those feet, the heavy foot fall.

A smile came to his face as a shadow began to pull away from the darkness of the forest, the familiar figure of his mate coming out. "Raph!" he called happily relieved, only to have it all washed away when the moonlight bathed them both. His bandana was wrapped around his arm, red running down muscled arms making the fabric look distorted and warped. A deep cut across his side where the hinge should have protected green flesh. There were grazed cuts littering his legs as he pushed forward. The hand that was holding his bleeding side released the wound in favor to reach out, to grab and hold the startled turtle that was before him. He fumbled for only a second grabbing Mikey and throwing him over his shoulder, his panting breath brushing against outer thigh when he whirled around trying to see if he was still being persuade while in the middle of a jog.

The clatter of the screen door was louder than usual. Raphael's panting breath, hissing through clenched teeth as he turned this way then that looking for something, anything that would help.

"Raph what's going on?" orange clad eyes gazed at the back of his brother's head as he tried to wiggle free from the strong grip. "Why are you-"

"Mikey shut up."

It wasn't snapped, it wasn't angry, it was a cold and calculated demand. Raphael hurried up the staircase, throwing open the closet that he once had to be hidden in as to not be tempted to fight when he had several broken ribs. He pushed boxes to the side and put Michelangelo down, his hand coming over his lover's mouth. He was shaking, trembling from adrenaline and fear. Not fear for himself, fear for the sea-green turtle that was looking at him with wide eyes. He held up a thick finger to his mouth, "Shh, shh... no matter what, I need you to be quiet. Be quiet." He slowly removed his hand, his voice barely above a whisper, "Promise me, not matter what, you'll be quiet."

"But Raph-" he was cut off with a quivering kiss. "Raph what's goin-" an other kiss.

"Shh, quiet, Mikey, quiet," he began to shut the door. "I love you. Stay quiet, stay quiet."

"Raph," he reached out but the door was shut, the lock from outside clicking into place. There was the quiet sound of items being moved to block the door from sight. He heard padding against the wall, a tapestry being quickly relocated to make it look like there was no closet, that Mikey was not there.

He put his hand to the door, pressing on it, trying to call out but before his choked voice could be found he heard footsteps, heaving and thick soled. The voices were muffled, he couldn't tell what they were saying, whatever was placed over the thin door was good, even if he shouted no one would hear him other then a desperate scratch of a rat. There were thumps, shouts, screams, and eventually it all retreated. He had to cover his mouth, sobs strangling his throat as he prayed that Raphael would pull away everything and tell him what was going on. That everything was okay. All he could do was wait.

And he waited...

And waited...

His trembling fingers reached into his belt finding his shell cell. It was hard to dial, he was in shock, he may not have been hurt physically but mentally and emotionally he took a beating. The whole time he waited he could hear Raphael telling him to be quiet, that he loved him.

"Hello?"

"...nie..."

"Hello?" the voice was louder this time, background noise of machines turned off. "Mikey, is that you?"

"Donnie," the sob wrenched itself free as he clutched onto the phone as if it was really his brother. "Help," the last part was whispered.

"Mikey, what's wrong? MIKEY!"

To Be Contuned...


	8. Chapter 8

Webbed Glass

Chapter 8

Humans, they were dark creatures that tried to bath themselves in light using words such as prevention, and justice. They were a frightened race that cowered, shrunk away from anything that did not fit their limited perception of normal. They hated what the could not explain, they damaged what they could not create of their own hands, worse yet, they held no remorse for those actions. They would go to church on Sundays and tell themselves that all was forgiven because they were on the right path. Only a select few could embrace the oddities and novelties that experience and life could offer. These few prove to become protective, bordering onto obsession of insuring safety to the world that that was bigger than themselves. Though that was not completely true either, there were some that lived for differences, that were not afraid, but would cause great harm and never blindly. Humans... they are a confusing race. It was a wonder why he did not hate them all. But seeing April holding onto Michelangelo, her slender arms wrapped around the blanket that was covering his little brother, he knew there were at least a few that were worth while. He turned around from the window he was looking out of in favor of watching pale hands take a warm, damp cloth and try to clean and sooth the blood away.

When they had reached the Jones family home everything was deathly silent. The screen door was broken, old wood creaking on hinges that groaned in the slight push and pull of wind. The sent was first to come, dry and potent like rusted machinery, next was the sound of insects. Buzzing frantically trying to get their fill of the grim that speckled the floor. A chunk of green flesh was on a crooked nail that bent and twisted out of the side of the wall, it was not big barely half the size of his fingernail, but still large enough to set a sickening feeling deep with in. It cackled like a haunting siren of the sea, pulling his worst fears into light. He had hurried up stairs, had been running up as fast as his feet could carry him when he heard wood groan and burst open. He barely got to the top of the stairs when he saw his little brother stumble out of the rubble that was covering the closet. His feet splashed in a puddle, his body's tremble turning to a full out quack as he fell to his knees, nunchaku dropped lifelessly as he padded the floor. Eyes wide he started to mumble their brother's name. He had to force himself to move, to walk through the fanned splatter that littered the floor, a gush on a wall.

"Mikey," he reached out for his brother, his fingers touching the shoulder that heaved with each deep breath.

The breathing became more frantic in mere seconds, the youngest looked at his hands coated with red, coated with the fear that was slithering like venom in his belly. Fingers curled, his hands coming up to his face as he reared back a horrible scream ripping through his whole body, shrieking out all sorrows and terror. The scream was long, tearing at his brother beside him. Michelangelo's body folded in on itself as the scream merged into a cry. This was his fault, all his fault. If he had not asked, if he had just accepted that Raphael loved him and believed that was enough. If he had not tried to pry, if he had not pulled away, if...

"Mikey, Mikey!" Strong arms were around him, the sent of Leonardo was pressed into his beak. He was being moved, his body moving where his brother took him, "You should have just waited," Leonardo gritted through his teeth. The sea-green turtle could take nearly anything, he knew that. Michelangelo was picked on a lot because he was the youngest, he made dumb mistakes during battle, but he could always take it. Then there was this. To describe everything as a war-zone would not be accurate. I looked like a slaughter house. Raphael's bandana had been cut up, pinned under an iron pot, blood speckled the dark metal. The stair railing was broken in half human hair and skin left in the jagged, jutting edges. Bits of red fleshy globs tossed in random directions, had dried to where they had landed on the floor, table tops and legs.

Donatello had barred Casey and April from coming in, his staff at the ready as he told them not to come in, to stay put. It was for their own good, he did not want his friends to see this, any of it, not even when they confirm the status of both Michelangelo and Raphael.

"Donnie, you guys are going back to the city," Leo said from inside the house, finding a blanket thrown over the edge of a couch. He wrapped it lovingly around his baby brother's shoulders, "I'm going to stay here and see what I can find."

"But Leo-"

"Just leave Raph's bike." He squeezed Mikey around the shoulders with his arm, in a tight reassurance before addressing him, "Everything's going to be okay, Mikey. I promise." When he did not get a reaction besides a sniffle he put a finger under his brother's chin forcing his gaze to come up. "Okay?" A slow nod. Leonardo pulled his brother back into a hug, running soothing circles against his back. "Stay with Donnie, and when I get back we'll be ready to find Raph. Okay?"

Shaking arms wrapped around him, a choked sob with a nod of the head and a whispered, "Okay."

"Guys, what is goin' on in there?" Casey was starting to loose his cool.

Donatello gently took his little brother from the embrace of their forest-green leader. Carefully he kept an arm around him, "April, Casey, take him to the truck."

The two humans were silent before they saw the dark red that was on the youth's face. A panic erupted as they took either side of him, ushering their beloved friend away from the house that held good and bad memories. Soon as they were occupied Donatello turned to his remaining brother, "If you are going to stay here keep your shell cell on com-link. No chances."

"I know... Take care of him Donnie, you saw how bad it was up there... worse than down here."

Arms wrapped around his neck, holding him tight as he held back, "Find everything Leo. Every clue."

Now he was here, watching April take care of Michelangelo. The image of running up the stairs with Leonardo, the sounds of such a sorrowful scream. When Leo had hurried to his brother's side he had ran down stairs to prevent his friends from seeing what laid in wait with in innocent walls. He felt so useless.

"You guys have yet to tell us what is goin' on here," Casey was pacing the apartment floor, not happy at all. "Why couldn't I go into my own house? Why is Mikey covered in blood? Why did Leo stay behind? Where's Raph?"

"I'll answer that soon as Leo gets here. Before we can reach any conclusions we need to at least find out a trace of what might have happened. All we know now is that Mikey's still in shock, Raph's missing, and Leo's trying to find clues," this wasn't right, he should be there with Leo trying to assess, to try to come up with a conclusion as soon as possible. He put a hand to his face trying to rub away the stress that was penetrating through his brain and into his senses. He should have been more insistent on following that ominous feeling, if he had then none of this would have happened. Raph would be safe, he would be yelling at him for being a mother hen, he would be whole and not have small bits missing, he would still have his bandana. And Mikey, Mikey would not be staring into nothing trying desperately to come up with tangible thoughts, he wouldn't be slumped over April like a broken cat toy and let her do whatever she pleased. He should be giggling, making jokes, jumping around... Donatello sighed heavily, his mind trying to give him the reassurance that out of most possibilities with in an hour his little brother will be back to normal, just in vengeance mode. Vengeance mode was better than no mode at all. He hated shock because of that, it damaged the brain, paralyzed thought processes, only allowed the most primal of reflexes to exist with in its hold.

To Be Continued…


	9. Chapter 9

Webbed Glass

chapter 9

His face, so close, his hands touching skin with a gentleness that he would have never associated with the color red. The intensity of compassion in those eyes that were usually so carefully guarded, the heat of his body pressed up so close. "Mikey," he made the name sound so sweet to the ears. "Nothin' you can do, can hurt me." A chaste kiss that felt like a drink of cool water, "Never blame yourself." A caress of the cheek as he held onto his lover as if he was drowning in the tender sea that Raphael would only show him, "If I hurt, it's because I let it. It'll never be your fault. Never."

Michelangelo glared at his reflection in the window, his memory of sweetness washing away to be replaced by visions of a dark past. Raphael's slick blood making it hard to get a hold of his shell so that he could move while he was bounced around like a sack of potatoes. That once passionate gentleness became frightening when accompanied by the words of "Stay quiet." Right at that moment he hated himself, a loathing unparalleled felt like a rock in his throat. How could he have just sat there? How could he have just waited and not move when he heard the fight right outside in the room? Sure it took him a good hour or more to break down the door after calling Donatello, but that didn't mean he couldn't have tried harder when Raphael needed him the most. Why did he freeze up? Why did he silently beg Raphael to hide with him in the closet but never actually say it?! Why had he been so frightened?! Why couldn't he have tried?! This was all his fault, he knew it. He had hurt his lover, had tore him up to the point he was distracted, couldn't properly fight. His mate might have said that no matter what he was never at fault, but he was! And he couldn't forgive himself for it. He had hurt him deeper than the nightmares had by that stupid flinch, he had caused every cut, tear, and puncture that was on that emerald green skin, all because he had started to act like some stupid Mary-Sue from a story that wasn't worth reading! After this, after he made sure that Raphael was safe and sound, he would do something about it, even if it meant... He squeezed his eyes shut, the thought of it hurt, it allowed that emptiness to crawl back inside his soul, but even though it would mean he would be hated for the rest of his life it was okay. Just as long as he never his the cause of such trauma ever again.

-------------------------------

The floor was cold, slicked with a stench of cleaners that were designed to remove DNA traces of the nightmares that occurred there at any given moment. Bleach seemed to be the favorite, making the air sting his nose and stifle his breath. He coughed, a thick rattle in his chest as he propped himself upon one elbow, hand covering his mouth as he was thrown into a fit of coughs. The air was getting harder to breath, then again, there was no proper ventilation, just a few windows that were slatted and half covered with dirt. The tiny rectangles of glass-pains were barely large enough for him to stick his hand through, and that was if he could reach it from the ten foot high position it was placed into. He moved to sit up against the wall he was not to far from, the movement causing a swatch of white stained with dark to fall off of his shoulder. He ignored it. All he could think of was how to get out, how to get home to his mate and to his brothers.

When he first lost consciousness, he remembered an iron pot coming down on his arm, the wounds that were already there screamed at him, causing his vision to blur. He had lashed out with a sai, catching someone's leg, from the pull of resistance he was guessing he nabbed a sizeable chunk from the person who was assaulting him. He had fought his way down stairs, trying to make it look like he was only on the upper level of the farm house trying to find a place to hide. He had been blocked from the windows, forced to go back down stairs where he put a man's head through the railing in the middle of the struggle. He had to get away, if they started to use the guns strapped to their thighs then a stray bullet could go through a wall and hit Mikey. He wasn't going to chance it. Everything had become overwhelming, there were to many. They had tried to use tazers but when he kept going after intense electric shock they resorted to using what was around, even threw an oak table at him when he was against the wall. He was not sure what had caused him to go unconscious. He wasn't positive if he had completely blacked out, he was still slightly aware of being picked up, moved. The bump of the vehicle he was in was the last thing he remembered before waking up in the cell he was in. His wounds had half hearted patches of gauze and tape, the deep ones had stitches and ointment. Whoever had nabbed him did not want him dead, at least not yet. The cool tile soothed burning cuts and throbbing burns, the bars were thick and refused to bend with what little strength he had left. All adrenalin worn out of his system, loss of blood, and his body attempting to heal itself back up from the work over he received in his attempt to remain a free spirit put a rather large damper when it came to applying physical abilities.

He rubbed a hand over a large scab, trying to keep the ache low as possible. This place would have been better if it was a prison cell, he would at least know he was some sort of inmate, that he wasn't alone in the stark emptiness. Unfortunately he had no such luck, where he was resembled a twisted combination of jail and a hospital ward. The cell he was open only where the bars were, no other cells in sight, only one large and long hallway. No noise came floating in on the air, no strange shadows against the walls, and the only thing to smell were those cursed cleaning solutions. He was in complete and utter isolation. Ever since he woke there had been no contact, only him, alone with the stench that stifled air.

Closing his eyes, he leaned back farther against the wall. He needed to concentrate on healing, on getting enough strength back that he could at least get to his feet. His limbs were tired from just supporting himself on all fours, everything hurt and he was starting to think that his upper arm had some sort of break in it from the sharp pain he would receive from moving that particular limb. He couldn't be really that bad could he? He could just be over estimating the damage, thinking that because of all the white gauze on him he must be really badly injured. Raphael's weight slid to his favored side, eyes sliding shut as he came to the floor once more with a soft thud. He was too tried to remove the bandages and see for himself, he couldn't keep his eyes open, injury over riding the need to stay awake. He would sleep, just for a bit, just long enough to get back some energy and then he would start working on how to get out.

Sleep, it sounded so good, but he was worried that the nightmares would return. Michelangelo was not with him, not by his side to give soothing touches, and comforting words. An orange bandana was not there to let tails pool next to his nose as the younger turtle snuggled into the pillow and give endless talk about things that did not matter yet meant the world. Yes, the nightmares would come back, but perhaps this time he could fight them off himself. Push them away in favor of remembering laughter that was contagious, eyes that sparkled with life, and breath that smelled of pizza and chips.

"Mikey," he let the name fall from his lips as he squeezed his eyelids tightly together. He hoped he was safe even though he had a gut feeling that he was. Unfortunately a gut feeling does not push the worry away, it only helps calm it so that it was not as intense.

"Raph?"

His eyes shot open, his hand thrust under him shoving himself up into a sitting position. Brown-green hands were wrapped around bars, large innocent eyes taking in the sight of the turtle on the ground, "Oh shell Raph, what have they done to you?"

"Donnie?" He tried to move, his arm screaming out to him when he tried to use it for support, "Donnie! Am I glad to see you."

"I'm glad to see you too bro," the brainiac shifted his gym bag over to rest against his stomach, his nimble fingers digging into the large pouch trying to find what he was looking for. "Just hold on, I'll get you out in a jiff-…" His face twisted in his silence, his brows knitting together as he started at his brother with in the jail.

"Donnie?" Raph forced himself up to his feet, the protesting limbs giving underneath him forcing him back to the ground. He used his good arm to pull himself closer, "Donnie, speak to me buddy. What's…" His heart stopped.

Red dribbled from brown-green lips, speckling the bars when Donatello coughed. Rivets ran down the back of his leg, pooling to the ground as his body jerked from having something pulled out from his back. The bars clanged from the heavy impact of the turtle being forced against them, hands gripping at the metal as he slid down revealing Bishop with a bloodied twelve inch knife in his hand and a wide grin.

The scream caught in his throat. All he could do was deaftly reach for his brother's hand that twitched. This had to be fake, this had to be a nightmare, this was not real. This was not real! But he could feel Donatello's skin, fell his brother's breath and smell it as he panted out a weak, "Raphie…" Tears, stung at his eyes as his brother clutched at him, lacing their fingers together, quivering with fear as his body became colder to the touch, loosing precious life.

"This is a dream, this is a nightmare," Raphael tried to reassure himself. He was ready to wake up now, ready to see that none of this happened and he was still alone in that god awful cell.

"Oh but I assure you Raphael," Bishop's foot came down on Donatello's shell, causing a strained cry to rip out of the dying turtle. "This is as real as it gets."

To Be Continued…


	10. Chapter 10

Webbed Glass

Chapter 10

Leonardo felt the wet splash on his face and neck, the warmth of the liquid cooling down as it ran down to the hallow of his collar bone and plastron. He reached up, fingers smearing a trail on yellow and green. Holding his hand out, he looked at the red that stained thick fingers that began to quiver. Someone was screaming down the corridor that snaked into the darkest of shadows. Picking up his feet he ran as fast as he could recognizing it as Michelangelo's voice. The sound gurgled and coughed before another scream was erected into the stagnant air. His heart was hitting his rib cage so hard that it felt like it was trying to burst forth, to go and save his little brother itself since his legs were being too slow. His shoulder slammed into the cool cement wall when he slipped on a discarded limb that left globs of flesh and small pools of blood. The forest green turtle put a hand over his mouth, his stomach churning, the three fingered arm all to familiar to him. Lungs refused to pull in breath when he forced himself to walk closer, the once loving hand of his brother hidden half in the shadows. He didn't know why he reached forward, didn't understand why his fingers came to touch the cold and stiff ones that once gave him gentle caresses and playful pats. He knelt down, trying to figure out if this was real or not, everything in his being was begging for it to be artificial flesh and not real. But it was, and when he dared to peer farther into the shadows of the opened cell he fell backwards, vomit churning up his throat forcing him to spill it upon the floor that smelled of bleach and disinfectants. Tears ran down his face once his stomach was empty, the scream of Michelangelo ripping him from his current sorrow filling him with panic. He had lost one brother, he wasn't going to loose another. He wouldn't loose Mikey, not after seeing... not after... He was running, running as fast as he possibly could, he didn't care of his legs were screaming at him. He had to save Mikey! He had to!

Turning the corner he found Bishop with a bone saw, the blade digging into skin as he tore to the side sending it all flying into the air in an arch. It created a fan pattern over Leonardo's eyes as he stood there helplessly watching as Michelangelo's head lulled to the side, barely attached to his body.

Leonardo screamed pulling himself out of his mental contact with Raphael. He had thought that he could make a connection between him and his brother that he could possibly try to understand what was going on, pick up some clues of where he was when there was so little for them to run off of. The shell cell had been found in the forest, his mask was here, his belt, knee, and elbow pads were found in a dump in the harbor. His sais... one had been embedded into a tree, it was where they estimated he was first attacked, and his other one, no one could find it. It had to be with him, unfortunately there was no tracking device buried into the hilt or they would have found him already. They had been searching for three days now, tearing up everything in false hope. Michelangelo had gone over the edge and refused to eat, sleep, or even come home until Raphael was found. He didn't care, dead or alive, though the way he was acting everyone was sure if Raphael was dead then Michelangelo would throw himself off of a very tall building and let the earth catch him. That was why Leonardo had gone with Splinter to try and meditate, create that bridge between several minds and try to gain a lead. All they got were horrible nightmares. Raphael was alive, that was all they could tell. Where he was, they did not know, and worse, they had no clue as to what was being done to him.

Leonardo staggered up to his feet, a desperate need to see Donatello, he needed to make sure he still have both arms, that he wasn't lifelessly slumped in the corner like a broken doll. He needed to know that his love was alright, needed to know that they still had contact with Michelangelo. He needed...

Donatello blinked up from the computer he was messing with, his hacking paused as a pair of strong arms wrapped around his shoulders. He frowned, "Leo... you're shaking." He was trying to keep a level head, trying to think properly but by the way his brother was acting that fear he was trying to squish was raising. He took a deep breath, stilling his movements as he tried to concentrate on what to say. It was quiet for a moment before he found his voice, "Is... Raphael deceased?" Deceased... it was not as harsh as dead. Dead meant that they could never see him again, dead was an ending for all things. Deceased held a whisper of a promise that at some point they could see him again, in the after life or not. Dead... that word was trying to force its way to his tongue but he wouldn't let it. He would kill it in his throat each and every time it tried to associate itself with his family and friends. They could never die, they would be together forever, life... was only a stage, just one stage.

"No," Leo felt Donatello relax with a large sigh of relief. He didn't want to say more but he felt that is was a necessity, "But... I don't know how much longer he can handle what they are doing."

It was silent once more before brown green hands came up and took a hold of his wrists. Pulling himself free, the younger turtle turned around in his chair, looking up at his love's eyes a hardness was there but also fright and hurt. Donatello now knew that he saw something that should have never been lived. He moved a hand to lace fingers with the forest green turtle, he was going to be the strong one now. Leonardo saw the devil and needed to step away to get back his bearings. The shorter of the two lifted himself off of his chair, the movement pushing his brother back a step. "Say that again Leo," he asked tenderly even though he was certain his voice was straining not to hiss.

"I don't know how much longer he can handle what they are doing to him," he repeated as a reassuring hand was placed on his cheek. He leaned into the touch instinctively.

"Then we make sure they have no more time," Donatello narrowed his eyes, letting go of his brother in favor to gather things off of his desk. "You stay here and stay with Master Splinter, you will have to watch him."

"Donatello what are you-"

The tenchno geek turned around sharply, items already in his duffel bag, "You're in no shape to fight right now Leo, I need you to stay here with Sensei. If what you saw could shake you up that badly he's going to need someone to lean on. Whatever you saw in Raph's head is probably going to damage him more than you or me, he's old Leo and our father."

"And you're in no shape to lead, you'll need back up. You can't just take this as a sole mission!"

"I won't!" Donatello's voice was hard, calm, calculating and above all else it was cold. It froze Leonardo deep down, he had never heard his brother like that. His sweet Donatello who was all warmth and kindness, he was now showing the hidden side of him, the ninja that was trained to dispose of evidence and creep in the shadows. He was finally getting to see all of his love. This new side, the one that was deep with in, it was almost... frightening. "Just go to Splinter, I'll keep in contact with you via shell cell. I agree with Mikey and Casey, it's time we ended all of this."

--------------

Raphael had nothing left in him. All he could do to keep awake now was stare at the bars, his mouth open as his breath was coming in and out ragged and becoming painful. If he was going to die, then he didn't want to die while having one of those nightmares. It was bad enough to see one brother die in a gruesome way, but now it was getting to the point where they all did. Everything he knew and loved was being torn apart over and over again. Each time he woke up he only knew he had a nightmare because of the change of scenery. He couldn't distinguish reality any more, and he was silently begging that he was awake.

He swallowed a hard lump in his throat, his drying tongue resting against his teeth as saliva pooled around his lip on the floor. He didn't even have the energy to close his mouth, it hurt when he blinked and he tried to do it as little as possible. All he could tell was that there was something in him now, someone came while he was thrashing in his sleep and put some nifty holes in his head where wires were poked into and fixed down. There were some in his sides and arms as well. They were long and fed into the wall, he didn't know if someone was just on the other side of that wall or not, he just knew that if he moved then there was more pain. Couldn't he just die? Couldn't they just stick a knife into him and cut him apart? It would have been a lot more merciful. Then again, mercy seemed to never favor the ninja turtle. It always did have something against him.

The ground shook, a crack and tumble sound of debris far off down the hall. He might have been interested if he had not just closed his eyes, his breath slowing, his heart growing tired. It would have been nice to have seen all of his family once more, maybe have taken Casey up on that offer to try some alcohol. He never liked the smell of it, but he wouldn't have minded seeing how it tasted. He would have liked to visit that old lady and her cat again, Mrs. Morris and Lucy, maybe introduce them to Mikey, she was a nice lady. Mikey would have liked her. April would have said she was the grandma type, Leo would just be happy that they made a new human friend that didn't judge off of sight, maybe make a small good humored joke about it to Donnie... He would miss them terribly, would regret not spending more time with Splinter and the rest. But it was okay, right? He could still watch over his family and friends... right?

----------------

Michelangelo felt the bone break against his knee as he flung himself though the air. Donatello had gotten a break through using his laptop and satellite systems, he pin pointed everything they could find from his knee pads to tire tracks in the dirt and pin pointed them on a map. With some weird triangulation that the orange clad turtle wasn't listening to, he had managed to narrow down a few possibilities. This was the second to the last place to check, every where else had been empty but this place was full of goons clad in black. They were Bishop's men, and they were going to pay for even being associated with the bastard.

To Be Continued...


	11. Chapter 11

Webbed Glass

Chapter 11

Splinter's thin fingers curled into the fur around his face as he tried hard not to let out a sob. He had always known that Raphael had been the one to hide away everything that hurt, he had been the son that tried so hard to beg for help with silent eyes but could never ask. When he was a baby he would push his brothers around, always acting rougher than any of the rest. He would thrash in his sleep only to wake up the next morning like nothing had happened while he dreamed. He stayed close to his brothers, trying to protect them from all the bad things that haunted him in hopes they would never see what he, himself, saw. Now, his son, his baby was off by himself suffering greater than he could ever imagine. He had tried to sooth the boy through their connection but whatever was at work only allowed him to see the horrors Raphael was living through. The strongest of the family was being slowly broken and he feared that his son would loose his life in the most horrible way.

"Master Splinter," Leonardo's shaky hand came down onto his frail shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze as he knelt down. "Donatello and Michelangelo just gave word, they think they've found where Raph is being held."

In need of comfort the elderly rat removed his hands from his face in favor of taking a hold of his eldest son's hand. He rubbed his thumb over the leathery flesh as he nodded. He could feel them, his other boys only if he concentrated hard enough. The connection between Raphael and himself was starting to fray, like a gentle thread being scraped at thinning it down until there was nothing left. It frightened him, he had to struggle to continue to watch, the hissing terrors of sleep continuing with out remorse. All he could do now was pray, hard, that his boy was going to live, and if he died...

-----------------

"I said out. of. my. WAY!!!" Casey's hockey stick slammed into chests and shoulders as hard as he could swing it emphasizing each word. He was loosing site of his turtle friends, they were moving faster than usual and he understood perfectly why. When they had been searching around for his best buddy just yesterday he had looked into the old farm house that had not been touched since the day Raphael had gone missing. Anger was not a deep enough word to describe what he felt, loathing barely scratched the surface. Raph had been so badly hurt trying to save his brother, trying to be the good person he was, and all he got in return was this?! If Casey Jones needed to take a few lives just to save someone like his buddy, Raphie, he was gonna do it.

"Raph? Raph!" Michelangelo's voice was shouting down the hallway before it was suddenly cut off, a strangled scream as he shouted out his brother's voice once more.

He found him, on the floor, not moving. He tried reaching through the bars, his hand could almost reach curled fingers. He slammed his shoulder against the prison that kept him from touching his lover but it would not give way. Pulling back he tried spinning his nunchaku, hitting the metal as hard as he could possibly muster, "Don't worry, I'll get you out." A few more hits and he was back to using his body, fists cracking, skin splitting as he punched and kicked desperate to know if the emerald turtle was still breathing. He needed to know, it was too dark in there for him to tell. "Raph, come on..." his shoulders rolled with his heaving breath, exhaustion finally taking over adrenalin. His chucks clattering to the floor as he slid to his knees, "Raph wake up, you gotta wake up."

"Mikey, get up!" Donatello's voice was harsh, desperation pushed back for cool dominance that was required for the situation. The hallways had grown quiet, his eyes scanning the shadows for any boogie man that wished to come forth, "We need to find the cell block trigger, it should have a mechanism where we can get the bars to retract."

"I'm not leaving him!" Orange bandana tails flipped in the air as the youngest refused to go.

"I'll go with ya Don," Casey panted behind his mask finally catching up.

Purple advanced on orange, "Keep your eyes open. You can't get him out if your dead."

A snorted sniffle and a nod was the only reply he got, it would have to do. Gripping his bo staff, he quickly hurried off, Casey following as best he could. Donatello had no idea where to look for the cell block trigger, usually a cell block had many compartments but this only had one every ten yards. The structure was completely built for intimidation and isolation, this was where the sandman was put to work, where the creature under the bed snickered and the closet monster laughed. This place was a fest of hissing and writhing nightmares that were just waiting to be born in some innocent unsuspecting head. A head like Raphael's. Teeth clenched together as eyes narrowed, here was no way in hell he was going to let this place infect someone else, and he was definitely going to make sure that it stopped pestering his family.

Out of frustration of the situation he thrust his bo to the side, the wood clanging on the cement that bowed softly. That wasn't right, cement should not be malleable. What was... he turned to the wall, pressing his hands against the wall feeling around. It wasn't cement at all, it was some sort of plastic that was only designed to mimic the rest of the wall. This place was good as any to check for what they needed. "Casey, help me get this open," he pulled back his bo to come down on the plastic hard.

--------------

The bars slid up into the ceiling with shifting sound. Michelangelo threw himself inside, his hands desperately seeking out vital signs, he breathed a sigh of relief at the silent heart beat that struggled under his fingers. He hesitated around the cords and wires, trying to sit Raphael up. The limp body pressed against his, as he closed his eyes tightly resisting the urge to shower kisses on a face that would most likely not feel them.

"It's gonna be okay, Donnie's comin' and we'll get those things out of you. We'll go home and Leo will yell at me for being stupid and Master Splinter will make you some tea and loose sleep because he'll be by your bedside all the time," he sniffled trying to hold back sobs. Raphael wasn't waking up, he could barely fell faint breath on his neck where his mate's beak was pressed against. "A-april will make you those famous triple chocolate cookies of hers and not let you eat them until you're better," he found himself rocking back and forth. A sob catching in his throat when the breathing stopped. He hesitated for a moment, his mind reeling at the fact that his heart was still beating that he could start breathing against at any moment. His hands shifted their holds on his lover's shell, "Come on. Come on," he was whispering it now. "Breathe... just breathe..." Heart stopped.

"NO!" his body was quacking as he laid Raphael onto his back against the fold floor. His hands slapping cheeks, "No, no, NO! Wake up! Oh god, oh god, Raph!" Quivering hands fisted over a yellow chest, pushing down with pressure every few moments as he counted them. He abandoned that task to seal lips with is own, pushing his breath into the body that was trying to die. He returned back to the chest to push down upon it once more, "You can't leave me like this!" He forced air into lungs once more, "Not like this! We need to be old fuddy duddies! You gotta yell at me for getting Klunk a wife when I think I'm ready for grandkids!" He wasn't responding. Michelangelo tightened his hand into a fist, striking it down hard, "If you go, I GO WITH YOU!" With one last strike air gasped in through a dry mouth, coughing causing the emerald turtle to roll onto his side. The younger turtle gave a shriek of joy, throwing himself over his brother, nuzzling down on an arm that smelled like infection and lousy ointment. He didn't care, Raphael was alive, was with him, was moving. He wasn't dead, and he wouldn't have to kill himself with one of Donnie's old rusted screwdrivers.

"M... ike...y?"

"I'm right here bro," Michelangelo pulled back to cup his brother's face in his hands. "I'm right here."

The sounds of Donatello's feet and Casey's shoes alerted him to his new company. He was to happy to care if they had bad news or not.

"Come on," Donatello sheathed his bo onto his back holster, knelling down. "This will hurt... A lot." His fingers wrapped around the cords that were dug into the side of Raphael's head and pulled slowly, carefully, making sure not to do any damage.

"Guys, we gotta go," Casey looked antsy.

"Just a minute, this is delicate work," Donatello started to work on the other wires.

"I know that, but like cut the wires or something, because we've got less than five minutes to get out of this place, or did you forget about the charges you just placed?"

"No, I didn't forget Casey," the brown green turtle was almost done with one side.

"This place is about to blow?" Michelangelo felt panic arise once more, "Work faster Donnie!"

To Be Continued...


	12. Chapter 12

Webbed Glass

Chapter 12

"Mikey," Donatello sighed heavily coming up to the side of his little brother. "You need sleep," he ran a leathered palm over Michelangelo's head in a soothing motion. "He'll still be here when you wake up."

Blue eyes didn't look up, just watched the slumbering form of his mate. Raphael had been bad off, he had several infected wounds that had to be cleaned and then re-cleaned, and cleaned again because of their stubborn nature of not getting better. He had stopped breathing twice and both times he had breathed life back into him, but he was stable now, it's been three days since they had freed him from his prison. Three days had crept up and passed out of boredom since the last time someone had to commence CPR. It had been four days since Casey and April were told not to come over, asked to keep calm as they tried to reduce the stress around the lair when a certain orange clad turtle took a swing at April. It wasn't her fault, nor was it his. She had met them street side, tried to help get Raph into the safety of his home when his weight shifted and her hand slipped, grabbing a spot that caused a small unconscious cry. It was instinct to protect him, he didn't mean to throw a punch that could break a normal person's bone at his best friend. He was lucky the redhead was next to Donatello, who pulled her out of the way quickly. Everyone had been silent while he realized what he had almost done, he apologized constantly while holding onto his emerald brother looking like a lost and dejected child. He had nearly lost his lover, the one person that literally gave up his world to keep Mikey safe. He had heard the breath stopping, felt the heart ceasing. He was terrified and confused, all of his training muddling together and making no sense to the thoughts of his heart that told him to try his best to keep the one in his arms safe and alive.

"He's stable Mikey," brown eyes watched the turtle that just sat on the uncomfortable stool. "He'll be waking up any minute now. Do you want him to see you looking like you haven't slept since he was kidnapped?"

"I haven't slept since he was kidnapped," was the short dull reply.

Donatello sighed heavily, looking around he found another stool to pull up next to his brother. He wrapped a concerned arm around sea-green shoulders and leaned Michelangelo against him, allowing the younger's head to rest against his neck, "Even if it's just a power nap, you can sleep against me, okay?"

That was it, the breaking point. At first it was a sputtering chock, quickly followed by a squeak that tried to form words, strong arms wrapped around the mechanic's waist as a soft beak buried itself into his neck and a sob ripped into the air. He tried to talk, but it was garbled with spit and sniffles. To soothing hands of his brother stroking his shell giving the occasional squeeze to the shoulder was all he needed at the moment as his eyes drained themselves of the heat that has plagued them for so long. It didn't seem long to him, until his body grew tired of the crying trembles that escaped him, but when he finally calmed enough to look at the clock a complete hour had passed. He sat up, rubbing his hands under his mask and across his eyes, "Sorry, I'm sorry."

Leonardo was the type to say that you should not apologize for grief, but Donatello was always the one that questioned why the grief was even there, "Why?"

"Huh?" Michelangelo let out a slow, tired, shuddered breath.

"Why are you sorry? We were all terrified, we all cried in relief when he became stable, but none of use said that we were sorry."

"I didn't mean it like... maybe I did," thick fingers rubbed over sinus cavities, a headache coming on from not crying so hard for many years. "I mean... I don't know."

"Mikey," a sigh came out of brown-green lips. "What's really the matter? What's the real reason why you won't go to sleep?"

"I... I need..." it was hard collecting his thoughts before he cried, now he was extra tired and he couldn't think of a good way to say anything at all. Might as well just let his mouth run like he usually did. That sounded good, then after that maybe Donnie would leave him alone to resume his watchful duties. "I need to say sorry because I freaked out because he told me about his nightmares because I badgered him into it because I love him and because I was worried that he didn't trust me enough even after we had sex because I'm insecure like that because he's always out there running around with Casey and could come back because he met some human chick that can't appreciate him for him like I can because I'm the best for him, ya know?"

Having a bag of bricks come out of no where to smack him in the gut would have made more sense to the purple clad turtle right at that moment. It was the way his brother just belted out everything that was confusing, not the information. It was no secret that Raphael and Michelangelo paired off, they picked on each other all the time, the worked well with each other when the other was not poking fun. Growing up, Raphael tried to get Michelangelo's attention and when he couldn't he simply ignored which in effect caused the younger to suddenly notice the lack of attention and grow up to the young man they knew today. But to be honest he did not expect the two to develop into the type of relationship he desired to one day share with Leonardo, especially BEFORE he could go that far with his own love. Another thing was that he didn't think that Michelangelo was so insecure, he was usually blowing enough self-esteem for all of them. He gave his brother's shoulder a squeeze, "Um... let me get this straight... you and Raph... have mated?"

There was an audible slap as Michelangelo hit his open palm against his forehead, "Ah, shell..."

Not fazed Donatello continued, "How many times?"

A sigh of defeat, well he just shoved every little secret he had with Raphael out the window like an annoying jumper on the Empire State Building roof, "At least a dozen times inside."

"Inside?"

"Five times outside."

With cheeks red he continued to ask, "So it's a permanent thing?"

"I wanted it to, but... but when he told me about why he wasn't sleeping I did something stupid and he went on his walk to calm down and the next thing that happens is I'm being shoved in a closet and bored up like some Nun in mid-evil England."

"And that means..."

"That means... I..." Mikey sighed again rubbing his face, "It means that I don't know what I'm doing."

Donatello swayed his weight in thought, rocking his baby brother with him in a comforting movement that he had done with his distressed brothers since they were small children. There were many things he could suggest, none of them involving spilling all of this information out in front of Splinter. If their father found out... well... he wasn't sure what would happen, but he was pretty sure it wouldn't be good. "Mikey..." he tucked his brother's head under his chin as he gave him a full on hug. "Whatever you do, just make sure it's what both of you want. Okay?"

He felt a nod of a head before he gave a squeeze, there was a muffled sound before he pulled away, "What was that?"

"I didn't say anything."

"I said," Raph's voice was barely a rasp of leaves on the autumn breeze. He swallowed, the sound more audible than his own voice, "Some water would be nice."

"Water!" Michelangelo nearly threw Donatello off of his stool when he lept to his feet, "Right, water, I-I-I'll get you some water!"

"I'll the water, you'd probably drown him before he could get a drink the way you've been acting," Donatello smoothly got up. Leaning over Raphael giving his injured brother a soothing pet on the head before kissing the top of where he had just rubbed.

"What," he swallowed again. "was that for?"

"For being alive, and when you get better I get a free throw in training for scaring us like you did." He patted his brother's head once more before moving away, "Off to get water I go."

Once he was gone the younger was left feeling suddenly abandoned. How was he supposed to apologize now that he was faced with the situation? How was he supposed to talk to the man whom he had taken life from and given back too? His feet were planted, his eyes were fixed on the floor. He had fantasized about the time when he would be able to see Raphael wake from all the gruesome events. He had planned on giving him kisses, of telling him he was sorry and that it was all his fault. He would hold him tight and eventually he would... he would tell him that it was too dangerous for them to love each other, that they needed to stop. But he couldn't say it, the words stung his chest and eyes like bees freed from a shaken jar.

"You... okay?"

"Yeah," it came out more of a shaken laugh. "Yeah, I'm... I'm good."

"You look horrible," a weak hand reached out, brushing against tired skin.

"Kind of happens when you don't sleep for a long time."

"Come up here," Raphael managed to move just enough to be on his side granting room for his lover.

"No!" he took a calming breath, "I mean, I might reopen a wound." With that he walked out of the room, he only got a few steps away when his shoulder leaned against the cold brick of the wall. Covering his eyes with his hand he tried to take a deep breath to calm his rampaging emotions. He wanted to climb into that bad, wanted to hold him tight and kiss away all the pain, but what one wanted was not always for the best. He was doing the right thing... right?

To Be Continued...


	13. Chapter 13

_**Before we start**_, I wanted to thank everyone for reading this story. A big extra thanks to those special readers who have commented and those who have actually interacted with me. This is in fact my only second Turtle fanfiction, the first one something no one will read because it deals with original characters and I was only writing it to test out how well I know the Turtle's personalities.

**ArtyKidd** - I may take you up on that suggestion of yours, but I don't know if I can ever become a professional at writing.

**Existing for Penguins** - you've been my most faithful reader, commenting on two stories; this and My Best Friend as a special treat send me a PM with coupling of your choice and what genre you want and I'll make you a fic.

**Libra4eva** - I hope you and me can get together some time soon to discuss the details of a colab story soon, thanks for reading buddy.

This is the last chapter of Webbed Glass, join me for the sequel "Package"

Webbed Glass

Chapter 13

Final Chapter

Stumbling down the stairs, neck hitting the railing, wrists twisting with knees scraping, it would have felt better than what Raphael was currently going through. His healing took to the better and he was able to move around freely with out having a sibling, friend, or father to give support. He was allowed to participate in one on one katas with his father, the soothing movements helping his muscles ward off any sort of ache that would have come with the lack of use. He loved those times, once in the morning and once before bed. It gave him a special spot of tranquility in the world of confusion that was whirling about him. Donatello had told him that Michelangelo had told him about their relationship and that he was perfectly fine with it. The purple banded teen gave his word that he would not tell Leonardo for it was not his place. It was rather nice to be excepted in such ways, and he got to see a softer, more sweet side to the brainiac than before with comfortable hugs and sneaked kisses to the top of the head while bandages were being changed. He would be lying if he said he didn't like the attention, in fact he loved it completely. It was non-sexual, all brotherly, no need to tell feelings because they were brothers not mates, brothers that had nearly lost one another. He liked the every so often holdings of hands with his father while they meditated, giving a smile to the old rat and telling him that he wasn't planning on disappearing from their lives any time soon giving that gentle grip a squeeze while they resumed the tranquility of silence. He even indulged in giving Leonardo a quick, uncharacteristic kiss on the brow when his brother had gone into a worry fit when Raph had choked on some water and was coughing when it was just the two of them home. It threw his brother off guard but earned him a smile and a soothing rub on the shoulder trying to ease the embarrassment that fallowed from showing his tender side. It was confusing how things could be so calm, but what was even more confusing was how his lover's kisses were growing distant, how his touches were not as frequent as they should have been. Fingers never lingered, and eyes had a hard time keeping passionate gazes. He was here, he was safe, so why was Michelangelo slowly withdrawing? Why was he taking an invisible blade and cutting into him leaving searing scars behind that refused to stop bleeding deep in his heart? He had tried at first to be comforting, but that didn't work. He tried the "act normal" approach, still nothing, he even tried straight forward confrontation and that didn't work. He didn't know what was wrong and by the way that his mate would silently sob into his pillow at night when he thought no one was awake, he could only guess and for a while he could only come up with a blank.

Right now he could hear the sobs as he looked up to the second level. He was the only one awake again, the throb of burns and cuts still healing kept him awake. Donatello had gone out with Leonardo to get some more pain medication only ten minutes ago and Splinter had gone to bed early due to having a rather vigorous training exercise for three sons in the morning. Everyone was supposed to be in bed by now, but Leonardo had come to Raphael's room intent on helping change bandages when he noticed how much physical pain his brother was in and told their purple wearing sibling about it, that was what lead them to leaving their home when they did. It left Raphael alone to think, think about Michelangelo and how to find out what was wrong, what was placing such a wedge in between the two of them. But before he could get anywhere with his train of thought the muffled cries traveled to his ears. The only reason why he could hear the soft sounds was because of his ears preferring the usually spunky voice of his little brother.

Leathery palms slid over the railing as he cautiously ascended the stairs that lead up to his lover's room. With each choke, each cry, it felt like a new cut from a razor blade, it took everything he had not to either rush in there and hold him tightly or to turn around and seek his own pillow to bite down on while tears slipped down his cheeks. He needed to be able to catch Mikey in the act or the boy would simply brush it off as something else. But before he could reach the top of the stairs, the sobs turned into sniffles as the sea-green turtle padded out of his room, mask around his neck, knuckles rubbing at wet eyes.

"Mikey?" he cursed at himself mentally. How could he have sounded so timid?

Michelangelo's shoulders stiffened, his fingers tense on his eyes as they slowly moved away to put his mask back into place. He didn't move when he heard those familiar footsteps taking the last few steps by stride, he forced himself to breath when he felt the warmth of longing love. He couldn't handle the feel of that blissfully wonderful hand on his shoulder giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance. At that moment he didn't need reassurance, not in what he was about to do. He wished at that very moment that Raphael was the doubting type, the kind of person that would urge caution and not confidence. But he knew his lover to well, and it threatened to bring tears back to his face. Michelangelo hesitantly reached up, his hand coming over his lover's before sliding that hand away from him. "Raph... no more, please."

"No more?" It almost felt like he had taken a step up a flight of stairs only to find that there was no step to be found, "No more what?" Please be wrong, was the only thought that chanted in his head. He wanted to be the most wrong person in the world right at that moment. He had his suspicions, but he always dismissed it, Michelangelo was not a quitter, he wouldn't start up something only to drop it like an unwanted piece of trash.

Shoulders trembled as he pushed it out finally, "We can't be together any more. So no more touching, no more kissing, no more..." he couldn't say it. To say "no more love" was to much, it would be the knife in his chest and be the executioner's ax on everything he held dear. "Just... no more..." With that he turned and ran, chased out of his own home by his own fears of seeing Raphael's hurt expressions.

He had chased past Donatello and Leonardo, not caring for their shouts of worry or concern. He made sure he was too fast for the sound of Leonardo's pursuing feet that fell back as his name was shouted out by his brother. He needed to think, he needed to cope with what he had just done. He didn't stop until he found himself in a place he had no idea where it was. It was somewhere topside, on a corner of a building that was bathing him win neon blue light. His legs were curled up against his chest and he let the cries held in his chest develop into full out wails of grief as he felt something die inside of himself over and over again at every image of Raphael, every recorded sound in his mind of his lover played repeatedly in his head. Finally it all died into a tired hiccup as he rocked himself back and forth now trying to think of a way to apologize to Donatello for doing something that was not what both he and Raphael wanted to do. He drew in a long sniffle, finally looking up from where he had tucked his head between folded arms and chest. A rumble in the sky above telling him that a storm was as unhappy as he was. His body froze, eyes wide at the sight before him. Raphael stood ten feet away from him, the most saddened expression to ever come upon the earth, he was trying hard not to let it show though, and that was what it look so depressing.

"You feelin' better now?" Red bandanna looking like a rich purple in the blue light, "You finally thinkin' like the Mikey I know?"

"Raph I-!!" He was advanced on faster than he could think, his body uncurling instinctively as the bulk of his lover draped over him on hands and knees, hands so very powerful pressed on either side of Michelangelo's head.

"Shut up," those emotional eyes were more influential than the blank tone used. "I always knew you were smarter than I ever gave you credit for. You surprise Leo and Donnie all the time, but never me, not until today."

"Raph-"

"I said shut up," sea-green lips pressed together by the now dead voice. Raphael was beyond angry or depression, in side he was dead, killed by the words of his own lover and right then only one thing mattered to him; the need for clarification as to why he was just murdered inside. "I never thought you would be dumb enough to bottle everything up until you felt the need to run away. Even in a fight you've fled a few times only to confuse the enemy, but this time... this time you just ran. Why? Donnie already explained what was wrong with my head, why the nightmares were so real. You remember right?" He waited for a second, there was no recognition so he continued, "Remember, he explained that in that room he and Casey found was a bunch of neat-o information about my brain. How my frontal lobs don't fully rest when I'm asleep causing nightmares, how a neuron stimulant of some sort was put into me when we were all unconscious when Bishop first got his hands on us. How this damn stuff screwed with my brain and the front of my brain until I couldn't tell nightmare from reality and how it has now run its course, Donnie explained all of that. I was grabbed because he wanted that information about our weird, mutated, freak brains. Someone only needed to wait long enough to find us come up before following and waiting for the perfect opportunity to snag their precious guinea pig. That was all explained the second day I was up. Remember now?" He waited until there was a small nod before speaking once more, "Now I know I died a few times, my body stopping, but I still hung around, still waited and fought until someone could get me to breath again, and you did just that. I'm still alive because of you, not because of Donnie or Leo, because of you. They told me all about how you needed to do CPR on me when I was still in that cell, about the other times when we got home as well. Do you regret that?"

"NO! I-" Lips covered his, pressing hard yet sweet at the same time. It started to rain; it was thick heavy drops that shattered against any and all surfaces that broke the fall of each heaven sent tear. Michelangelo held his breath, trying not to enough the taste of his lover, trying to collect his thoughts. He couldn't think past the smell of the fresh rain that mixed in with the musk that was purely Raphael. A tear slid down from his eye, hot and warm when it mixed with his rain kissed skin. Strong hands held his face so gently taking away all fight as he wondered how it came to be that he could break so easily. Was it the panic? Was it the expression of raw fear? He didn't know which. Perhaps it was when all of that left and desperation rung with each word spoke between both parties. How did it get like this? How did they both end up clinging onto each other like they were drowning in their shared sorrow? A sea-green hand slid from elbow to shoulder, feeling a scar pucker up from taunt skin one of the smaller injuries that had already healed. He turned his face, air rushing into his lungs as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Raph we can't," he whispered.

"Can't? But we did! You even started it genius!" Raphael's hands were still gentle dispite the gruff in his voice life sparked back from just the small contact, "Or are you forgetting that this was all your idea in the first place?"

"No I," soaked orange sagged over an eye that was starting to hurt from how tightly closed it was. "I..."

"Mikey," a wet bandanna was shifted over forehead to slip down to the rooftop they were laying upon. "Open your eyes... come on..."

Powder blue eyes slowly opened, reluctant at first but came to focus on the loving face that he wished would never leave him. His beak was nuzzled tenderly, a motion he grew to know as a way to ask permission for more intimacy. Raphael's warm breath washed over his mouth and down his jaw line there the rain had left cool trails, then sensation sending a shiver through his body. With out thinking his hands reached up, wrapping around shell and neck pressing the other into him as he finally let his mind go and vocally relieve his heart of its burdens, "I'm so terrified of loosing you."

Red pulled away, eyes wide and confused, "You did all of this, just to distance yourself from me?"

"I froze when I saw you bleeding, I freaked out and was useless when you were being attacked," he let go of his mate in favor for covering his own face. "I went into shock just from the thought and when we found you, you nearly died... I could feel your heart fade... your breath stop..." a meek whisper followed, "I wanted to die."

Supporting himself on one hand, Raphael reached for his brother's hands, carefully pulling them away from that face he loved to gaze upon. He let out a soft, long, sigh as he nuzzled their beaks together once more, "I thought you would have more faith in me than that."

"What?"

"I'm never leaving. I'm never leaving Donnie, or Leo, or Master Splinter... and I'm especially never gonna leave you," he let his tongue dart out to an upper lip for just a second, retreating before its playmate could come into contact. "Never, ever."

He couldn't handle it any more, his hands took hold of shell and flesh pressing themselves together, delving his tongue into his lover's moaning when warm, strong arms pulled him up off of his shell and into a sitting position. Not caring for the rain, not hearing the cars below or the sounds of the world starting to wake in the earliest hours of the morning they forgot the world in favor for one another. Passion burned the cold of the storm away, threw worries and doubts into the wind as promises of longevity and impenetrable bonds were whispered into awaiting ears. Whispers of love were swallowed to be sent straight to the heart and brain as to never forget the lesson learned as their bodies moved and tangled. Cries of pleasure, hisses of sweetness were lost in a thunderous rumble that just made it all the more special. Spent and taught never to doubt, Michelangelo clung onto his brother's body tightly, savoring the taste of the rain that had become a light mist that turned yellow in the breaking clouds and rays of early raising sun.

"All better?" was mumbled bringing him out of a stoop of drowse.

He made a confirming noise in the back of his throat as he nodded, adjusting so that he was gazing into eyes that would love him beyond the end of time. "But, there is one problem though."

"I'll fix it," Raphael quipped, "Whatever it is, I'll fix it."

"I think we might need our own place, I mean, I don't think I can live with sneaking around and waiting to touch you like this."

Raphael chuckled, giving his lover a kiss, "We'll deal with that later Mikey." He trailed an emerald thumb over sea-green skin enjoying the contrast of their skin tones and the gleam of the sheen left by sweat and rain, "I'll have to do some house huntin' first."

"Yeah?" Mikey kissed at the corner of a mouth, "I hear that our part of the sewers are in high demand, you might want to act quickly."

"Mmm," a direct deep kiss. A lick of lips, "True, but Sensei always says that patience is a virtue."

"I'll remember that the next time you're lovin' me up," Mikey snickered when he got a light swat to the shoulder.

END!!


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